Loved You Then and I Love You Now
by Teliko. x3
Summary: You don't marry someone when you love someone else.


**Loved You Then and I Love You Now**

**Rating: It's fine.  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Burn Notice. :[  
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**Summary: "You don't marry someone when you love someone else."  
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**A/N: So last night... I was supposed to be studying for finals, but I procrastinated and wrote this little number instead. Sorry for any grammar mistakes. Hope you guys like it. Oh! Also, listen to Tongue-tied by Groupelove. It's what I listened to while I wrote this **

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She could still recall the surprised look on Michael's face when his ex-fiance had walked through the loft, completely unannounced. She swallowed hard, trying not to make anymore of the surprised look that graced his face. It wasn't often Michael Westen was surprised... especially by a woman.

Fiona sat high up, perched on a bar stool, tilting a shot glass and rolling it back and forth on the rim. She watched the liquid inside roll to the edge of the glass, then turn with every pivot she inflicted onto the shot glass. If only Michael was that easy to control.

Her thoughts went back to Michael and... _Samantha_. She couldn't even say her name aloud without wanting to hit something... but she tried, anyway.

"_Samantha_," she mockingly let the name spill from her lips, with a spiteful laugh, rolling her eyes at how ordinary this woman was. How had she even managed to make Michael fall in love with her? They were once engaged and now that she was back, how was she ever going to compete with that?

The shot glass lost it's balance and fell back, perfectly on it's bottom. Some of the alcohol tipped over and spilled onto the counter.

Fiona sighed and raised the glass to her lips, knocking the shot back without missing a beat, and slamming the glass back down onto the bar top. Once the burn of the alcohol had faded, she motioned to the bartender for another drink. While the man behind the bar turned his back to fix her mixed drink, a man sat next to Fiona, looking down at all the empty shot glasses and cups.

"You usually come here with me," he said softly, stopping his count of shot glasses at seven and cups at five. She tried her best to ignore him and attempted a smile when the bartender turned around with her drink, placing it right in front of her. He then turned to the man sitting next to her, asking if he would like anything to drink, but he declined.

She reached for her drink, but before she could even bring the straw up to her lips, a hand had wrapped itself around her glass and pulled it away from her. She slammed her hands down on the bar and turned sideways to face him.

"Damnit, Michael! What do you want?" The small outburst had caught the attention of a few people sitting around them, but they dismissed it and went back to their own conversations and drinks. She took a second to compose herself and her anger. "I'm sure Samantha," she spit out the other woman's name with a certain hostility and pried her drink back from Michael. "-is waiting for you somewhere."

He watched her drink continuously from her glass and sighed.

"Do you think I wanted her to show up like she did?" Fiona ignored him. "I should've told you about her. I know that. I'm sorry."

"It still doesn't change the fact that she's here," she mumbled before taking another sip of her drink.

"Fi, how many of those have you had?"

"You're a spy. Figure it out."

He reached over for her glass again, slamming it down onto the bar, and placing a few twenties next to it to cover her tab. Startled, she watched as he grabbed her arm, pulling her down from the bar and leading her to his Charger. She struggled a bit, but knew better than to make a scene in public. She would save that until they got to where ever they were going.

He opened the door for her, blocking her way back to the bar and waited patiently until she got into the car. When she finally did, he closed the door and walked over to the driver's side, then got in himself. He started the engine and drove off into the night.

–

The street lights above were making her grow dizzy and disoriented. The alcohol was finally starting to kick in and she leaned back against the seat to steady herself. When she realized they were going in the opposite direction of her apartment, she unbuckled her seat belt and let it fling back to it's holder.

"Michael, in case you didn't notice, my apartment is in the other direction."

"Put your seat belt back on." Was all he said. She sat motionless, testing him. "Fi, don't make me pull over and do it myself." She rolled her eyes and sat back, reaching behind her for the seat belt again.

Minutes later, he pulled up into the empty space underneath his loft and shut off the Charger's engine. He opened his door, walked around the front of the car, and opened Fiona's door for her. Softly, he reached around her to unbuckle her seat belt and picked her up into his arms.

"I can walk, Michael," she whispered, anger still a little laced into her voice.

"After seven shots and in five inch heels?" She gave him a look. "I rather carry you," he finally answered, then shut the car door with his foot.

Carefully, he climbed the stairs to his loft and unlocked the door skillfully with one hand. He pushed open the door, stepped inside, and walked over to his bed where he gently laid her down. She sat back up again, watching him walk back to the door to lock it shut. Looking around, she noticed they were the only ones here.

"Where's Samantha," she asked, bringing up his ex-fiance again.

"Fi, just give it up." She cocked her head back in a bit of a surprised manner and watched as he turned towards her, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it to the floor, getting ready for bed. "You're trying to make me feel guilty and I do. I promise the second she leaves, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

He was standing a few inches away from her, near the bed, in front of the small night stand with a tiny lamp that was the only light source in the entire loft. He was sliding his watch down his wrist and setting it onto the small night stand when she finally looked up at him, with wide eyes.

"I want to know why it wasn't me."

He kneeled down in front of her and brought one hand to cup her cheek. A single tear had falling from her eye and trailed down her cheek, which he caught with his thumb.

"You don't marry someone when you love someone else."

Another tear fell and he rose up to press his lips against her forehead.

–

Some time before the sun rose, her eyes flickered open slowly and she found herself lying alone in Michael's bed, staring up at the loft's ceiling. Through the window, she could see the faint beginning of a sun rise and hear the birds beginning to chirp. Throwing the covers away from her body, she noticed her dress was in a pile on the floor and she was in one of Michael's shirts which stopped at her thighs.

She could hear the shower running from where she was and ran a hand through her tangled hair. Finally, she had managed to bring herself up in a sitting position and pushed herself off from the mattress. The second she stood upright, though, a searing pain shot through her head and she whimpered softly.

She crossed the loft barefooted, climbed the stairs, and walked past the small couch to the small room that constituted as Michael's bathroom. She opened the door and steamed hit her in the face. Quietly, she stepped into the small room and saw Michael's clothes scattered about the floor. Gently, she shut the door behind her and removed the shirt Michael had changed her into before she passed out.

Pulling the shower curtain back just enough, she stepped into the small shower and was met by Michael, who was in mid-rinse. She bit her lip and reached out for him. Her voice was a little unsteady at first.

"You don't stay mad at someone you love. Even if they keep something like that from you."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her tiny body, pulling her closer and letting the water shower down on both of them. She sighed at the feeling of his muscular arms and the hot water both all over her body. She leaned up on the tips of her toes to press a deep, passionate kiss to his lips. When the need for air became an issue, he kept his arms still wrapped around her waist and fell back against the wall, taking her with him. She laid her head against his chest and trailed her fingers down his skin, chasing the drops of water.

Finally, she looked up at him with a small smile.

"How many shots did I have again last night?" He laughed and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

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**A/N: Well that was it. It probably sucked, I know, but I needed something to do besides study my Louisiana History notes. LOL :)**


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